


Were There Ever Any Dragons?

by reddottedpaper



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Sherlock, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Gen, POV Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 02:29:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14392329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddottedpaper/pseuds/reddottedpaper
Summary: A cab ride with no charge.





	Were There Ever Any Dragons?

He felt as if something sawn him down into the seat and flushed all veins in his body with ice water. Salt started to sting his eyes but he could do nothing but keep watching.

"I don't believe sir Bloatalot's stories."

Moriarty. James Moriarty. Smiling and grinning and threatening his life in a squeaky voice. He's sick. So sick. Even the detective sees it. 

Moriarty's a shadow who lives his life a game. 

"He's just a big old liar who makes things up to make himself look good."

It was ridiculous. Moriarty was only trying to get through to him, to break him mentally. No. No. Sherlock would not let his mind be affected by this.

He wasn't a fraud. He was a bit dramatical and sometimes showing off, yes. But he did everything he claimed to do. He's not a liar. He's not, he repeated to himself. 

"And so, even the king started to wonder."

King Arthur. What a joke, who's that supposed to be? Lestrade? Hardly a king. Who are all the knights then? Everybody else? The press? The police? Anderson and Donovan? Yeah, those two would definitely do something to hurt him. No surprise there.

Sherlock wanted to close his eyes so badly. His throat was a sanding paper and his hands trembled even while resting in his lap. He felt feverish, his heart rate was running a marathon and his eyes still couldn't blink.

Stop it. Stop it all. 

I'm not that bad of a person,

am

I?

No, surely not.

They believe me.

People who know me.

People who've worked with me.

They have to.

He blinked this time, his eyes tiredly following patterns that weren't there.

No.

They won't.

Logically, they can't. 

All the proof will be there.

All their minds twisted around Moriarty's little finger.

John might...

John will still believe me.

John.

There really isn't a path out of this that's not filled with thorns and spikes, is there?

"But that wasn't the end of sir Boastalot's problems."

Glued to the screen, Sherlock felt too scared to move, too open, too feeling. His breath hitched.

"No." Moriarty disapprovingly shook his head.

Being claimed a fake, a fraud, stealing whole... me. Tearing away my whole identity and turning everybody against me still won't be enough.

That wasn't the final problem.

"That wasn't the final problem."

You spider, you snake, you absolute monster. 

I'm me.

I'm this. I'm Sherlock Holmes. I don't care that people don't like me and think I'm bloating. I am still me.

You want to erase me.

You want to destroy me.

Break the trust people have in me.

Break apart everything I have.

You can't.

You just can't.

No.

No...

Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, Sherlock shook with anger and frustration. 

"The end!"

No.

It won't be.


End file.
